


The Amphibian Trap

by Clueingforlooks221B



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Tim ships deathglare, Tim the matchmaker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 12:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9124717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clueingforlooks221B/pseuds/Clueingforlooks221B
Summary: Captain Tim is used to Hater barging into his room wailing. That's a typical night for him, along with shredding Hater's face apart. What is unusual, however, is Hater remaining sad. Left with a strange feeling in his chest from Lord Hater's sorrow, Captain Tim finds the root of his problem. Hater's lack of a mate.Deciding Commander Peepers would be the most compatible, he sets out to bring the two together.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh Tim Tim!!” 

The screechy wail grinds against Captain Tim’s senses, vibrating through his limbs. Instead of jolting upwards he blinks, narrowing his eyes. The thudding of sneakers grows closer to the closed bedroom door, and just by the crying Tim knows who it is. 

Rousing his muscles he stands, scorching blood beginning to thicken because of the intrusion from his sleep. 

Usually he gets more time in. 

Wood slams against the lilac wall, sending splinters spiraling onto the obsidian floor. In one swift movement Tim is raking his claws down Hater’s face, shreds of ivory gluing to Tim’s nails. 

But instead of light bubbles erupting in Hater’s chest and the barreling laughter that pops out of them, he only gets a whisper of a smile across his jaw. He sniffles, bringing the hand that’s not attempting to catch Tim to wipe the tears escaping the brim of his eyes. 

Part of him is infuriated at himself for not even letting Tim’s antics cheer him up, but he can’t shake the obese emotion that’s sitting in his chest. This feeling he can never place usually doesn't stay for so long. Fear licks at the crevices of his brain, fueling thoughts of what if he can’t ever get it to go away, and scenarios of living with it forever. 

Captain Tim, noticing Lord Hater’s struggles, settles in his arm. An unknown sense of urgency and concern nags him to do something, anything, but he remains motionless and confused at both himself and Hater. 

Snapping back to reality Hater flops onto his bed, poor Captain Tim getting smashed between his chest and the mattress. Hater sobs, clutching his pet with a vice grip. Tim squeals, beginning to thrash in his arms. Hater’s fingers dig into his fur, and no matter how hard he fights he can’t escape. 

“Oh, Captain, Tim!” Hater’s wobbly words trickle out of his heavy sobs, staining the air in a salty tang. As Tim breathes it in, his lungs collapse even more into himself. 

All the sobbing wears down on Hater, and Tim takes advantage of Hater’s lightening grip. He lunges out of Hater’s arms, but the second he does so his face is being dug into the mattress and dragged back into Hater’s chest.   Eventually Tim settles, allowing Hater to cuddle him tighter into his arms. Hot tears soak Tim’s neck, and the strange feeling returns, overwhelming him. 

As Hater babbles and sobs, Tim contemplates the new feeling inside him. It feels raw, and so heavy. It is demanding to be felt, twisting his organs and rattling them. It makes him lightheaded, and his mind is stuck on the repeated screech of Hater being sad.

He feels bad for Hater. Empathy. 

Of course Tim cannot comprehend that, but he does know that he is feeling bad for another person. Which has never happened in his whole entire life. 

Hater breaths, starting to calm enough for his consonants to come out clearer. “Why does no one love me?! I mean I’m so cool and awesome! Why can’t anyone see that?!” He begins to sob again, yet Tim can feel him stiffen and his fists heat with the aftertaste of anger. 

Eventually his bawling fades to whimpers and the crack of his voice, then soon to snoring. His hold lightens on Tim, and once he notices this he swiftly slides out from under Hater’s chest. 

Tim settles into Hater’s side, not wanting to abandon him completely since the weird feeling still squats in his heart. 

Who would be a compatible mate for him? Tim considers the people he’s come across, thoughts slipping off to warm darkness as he falls asleep. 

——————

“Lord Hater sir,” The soft whisper treads wearily through Tim’s ear drums. Lazily, he blinks his eyes open. From the wavelengths of the nasally tone, he already knows who it is. 

“Sir, it’s time to get up.” Besides him Lord Hater groans, bones rattling from Peepers shaking his arm. Hater blindly swats at Peepers hand, narrowly missing his target since the commander turns to flick his bedside lamp on. 

Tim draws his limbs in, stretching them out as he stands on the bed. He yawns, displaying the neon green saliva that pools between the crevices of his fangs. 

“Grop Peepers it’s too early.” Although his words are muffled by the pillow his jaw is wedged in, Peepers still understands his statement. 

Inwardly Peepers scoffs, the time being late in his opinion. 

But, this is coming from someone who wakes up at the crack of the crack of dawn. 

“It’s seven thirty sir! I let you sleep in for thirty minutes, so now we are behind schedule!” 

Well aware of the… event, of yesterday, Peepers let Hater sleep later than usual in hopes that it would make him happier. He should’ve known better. He would've had to let Hater sleep until noon, which they really can’t afford right now. 

Ripping the sheet off Hater, Peepers stomps over to Lord Hater’s closet. He removes his coat, lying it on the side of his bed. He kneels afterwards, lining Hater’s sneakers neatly on the floor under his coat. 

Hater groans again, unmoving. 

For a moment the commander crosses his arms, staring down at the skeleton’s motionless body. Exhaling loudly, Peepers tosses his hands out as he exits the room. Down the hall he grumbles to himself, and Captain Tim picks up the stark vowels.

Hater slinks up, a hollow frown etched on his lips. But even Captain Tim can tell he’s not really upset. 

Wait. 

Bingo. 

If Captain Tim could smirk, he would be doing it loud and proud. His mirth, instead, seeps into a pleasant churn. 

Commander Peepers is perfect. 

In Tim’s mind he feels Peepers is the most compatible mate for Hater, especially compared to everyone else he’s come across on this ship. Peepers is good at cheering Hater up, along with himself of course. Tim can see how fiercely loyal the commander is to Hater, and to Tim that’s perfect mate material. Someone who makes you happy, and will stay by your side. 

Now it’s just getting them to realize that. 

Tim hops off the bed, skimming past an exhausted Hater who is clumsily tying his shoes. 

Captain Tim sits on the floor near the door, muling things over. Of course he knows these people don’t get mates the way his species does. Although from the things Hater watches on the huge glowing screen above his bed, and forces Tim to watch with him-he stays beside Hater for the food-Tim has a good idea of what he needs to do to help them along quicker. 

Peepers pops his eye into the doorway, pupil sparkling when he sees Hater awake and dressed. Most days Peepers has to literally drag him out of bed. He remembers the days when he used to not be able to, and feared if he could he would be electrocuted to death. 

Commander Peepers waits for Hater to be by his side before he walks back down the hallway. Pulling his clipboard up he clears his throat, “Y’okay sir, today for breakfast is-“ His voice fades down the hall, and Captain Tim stands. 

Typically he would either go back to sleep, or go watchdog chasing. Today he’s going to do something he’s never done, nor have had the urge to do. 

As he scurries down the hall watchdogs literally jump out of his way. Peepers words trickle back in as he nears them. “Then there’s another meeting, this time about-“ Tim glances up at Hater who is staring stoically ahead, blinking heavily. Exhaustion lies on the top of his eyelids, wearing his whole face down. Like usual, he’s not listening. 

Creeping behind Hater’s trudging legs, and Peepers face paced strut, he begins to skip in between both of their legs. Immediately Peepers stiffens at Tim being so close to him. The commander’s gotten a bit better at being around him, but whenever Tim has come this close he’s attacked. Having the complete opposite reaction, Hater giggles as his pupils trace Tim’s movements. Tim leaps between Hater’s legs to in-between Peeper’s legs, and then repeats the motions more sharper. 

“Tim Tim stop you're going to make me trip!” His chortling gives away that he clearly doesn't mean what he's saying. 

Peepers is perplexed, and both his and Hater’s pace has slowed considerably. The commander is attempting to shake it off and play things casually by continuing to walk, but he’s lost his place on his long list of duties. 

One minute Peepers is squinting at his list and attempting to find his place, the next his clipboard is soaring out of his gloves. 

In that moment, all he registers is the heavy furry weight in front of his feet that he tumbles over. 

Flarping Tim! 

Hater shoots his arm out before he can fully think his actions through, and all of Peepers weight crashes into his wrist. For a moment they're both still, Peepers gaping and Hater’s chartreuse eyes wide. 

Tim stares up at them, plopping onto the floor. 

As fast as it occurred they’re breaking apart, Hater clearing his suddenly tightening throat. “Sir I’m sorry!” Peepers shakily apologizes, before stiffening. “Wait no I’m not!” He stomps his foot on the ground, glowering down at Tim. “This was all his fault!” The commander throws his arms out, waving them wildly to motion at Tim. 

Tim tilts his head at Peepers, feigning confusion. All the while in his mind, though, he’s plotting his next movements to get them close again.

Hater scoops up Tim, rubbing his face into Tim’s. “Aww Tim Tim! You just wanted to play, and poor mean Peepers almost trampled you.” 

“What?!” Peepers jumps, “He was the one who-“ Peepers points at Tim, who is currently rubbing himself into Hater’s jaw and purring. The action surprises both of them, since the amphibian would usually growl and shred him apart. Yet the commander is to angry to portray his shock. “Augh,” Peepers growls, throwing his head back. “Forget it.” He realizes how ridiculous he's being, and that no matter how much he argues Hater will continue to fight back. 

Whatever, he knows he’s right. As usual. 

Hater simpers, continuing to coddle Tim and coo at him. 

Rolling his eye, Peepers swipes his clipboard off the ground. Dusting the dirt off it, he readjusts it firmly into his hands. 

“As I was saying,” Peepers states loudly, glaring at the pair. Hater halts his chatter, and even Tim seizes his purring momentarily. “there’ll be a twenty minute lunch break for you sir, and only twenty minutes-“ Tim zones the commanders sound waves out again; just by the tone he’s able to tell whatever he’s saying is boring. 

Captain Tim resumes his purring, purposefully making it louder to drown out Peepers words. He nestles into the crook of Hater’s neck, shoving all his weight into it to make Hater incline closer to his commander. Hater falls slightly in surprise, but quickly catches himself. He barks, grinning, “Tim that tickles stop!” 

Tim works on tilting Hater’s head closer to Peepers level, putting intense concentration into this all while continuing his purring. 

Peepers stops talking, turning his eye to glare at Hater for the umpteenth time this morning. The minute he shifts, Tim takes advantage. 

He extends his legs, keeping his head nuzzling the side of Hater’s while he wraps his limbs on Peepers shoulders. The commander stiffens, sucking in a deep trembling inhale, before stilling. The air around him is stained in apprehension, while the atmosphere around Hater’s is of confusion. 

Tim twists himself, alternating his position so that he is rubbing against Peepers eye and purring.  
 There’s something he never thought he would do… ever. 

His legs stubbornly stay on Hater’s shoulders, working to draw them closer to each other. Tim’s rumbles intensify, and his nudges force Peepers eye closer to Hater’s face. Out of the corner of his eye Peepers stares at Tim, steadily releasing his breath as if to not startle Tim into attack mode. 

Hater, realizing the proximity of them all along with where they are, jolts into action. Cheeks glowing a bright hue of green, he yanks Captain Tim by his limbs back down into his chest. From the surprise of it Hater succeeds in removing Tim from Peepers. 

The shock is only momentarily. 

Loud piercing screeching bounces down the hall. Tim wildly thrashes into Haters arms, thick saliva dripping from his glistening fangs. Nails out he swipes for Hater’s sleeves and gloves, but Hater holds him away from his prized possessions. Hater’s embarrassment warps into anger at the motion of Tim almost destroying his coat. “No Captain Tim! Bad! Bad boy!” 

 Once Tim was yanked from Peepers frame the commander jumped back, chest heaving from the air he’d held in. His heart quivered, rattling his rib cage. From the force of the crisp air flowing back into his veins his body caved into himself, and he kneeled momentarily to collect himself. 

Captain Tim has settled, but more to see the scene unfold than anything. 

Peepers and Hater are standing farther apart than when they first started their venture down the hall. 

The commander clears his throat, raking the humiliation and puzzlement out of his system. He looks back to his clipboard, and is for once long for words. And when he doesn't know what to do, he goes back to the plan. 

“Next is another meeting, but this time about-“ He forces his usual professional tone, successfully bringing Hater out of his warping thoughts. They continue to walk down the hall, remaining farther apart from one another.

Blood hisses through Tim’s veins, slicing his organs apart. An unlucky watchdog passes by, and Hater causally passes Captain Tim to him. Not one to disobey Lord Hater, who is actually somewhat paying attention to him, he takes Captain Tim. 

As they walk away Tim screeches, ripping the poor watchdog’s uniform to shreds. The watchdog screams, flailing his limbs out and unsuccessfully trying to escape.  
The watchdog falls to the ground, throwing Tim down with him. He starts to crawl away, before he pulls himself up with trembling limbs and races away.

Tim lets him go, playing with the rubber glove in his fangs. Out of frustration he bites down as hard as he can, enjoying the tension it creates in his jaw. His head whips from side to side, drool flying and burning the ground as he watches the crimson glove disintegrate. 

He drops it, growling down at himself. 

This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this. I just started school this week and had to be switched to AP English so the workload is insane D: So this may take me longer than usual, but since the weekends here I'm trying harder to work on this and procrastinating already on homework ha. Thank you all for your support and feedback :)

Every morning Tim repeats the motions of skipping between their legs, attempting to shove them together. 

But everyday it fails. 

The results get worse. They break apart faster with each passing day, and now Hater is literally throwing Tim to the poor watchdog that happens to pass by. 

One morning Hater had the nerve to shut the door before he could come out, but he swiftly ran out the back door and quickly caught up to the two. 

Captain Tim realizes he’s going to have to think of something else besides pushing them together, of course. He just hasn’t thought of anything yet. By doing it so many times, Tim figured they would have to get the message at some point. 

He just needs to make his message clearer. 

This morning, Hater slams the door so roughly the walls tremble. The wind from the harsh action skids across Tim’s legs that narrowly missed being crushed by the door. Releasing a spitting hiss that sends chartreuse saliva splattering against the ebony floor, his ebony fur stiffens as he shoots towards the other entrance to Hater’s bedroom. 

How Hater hasn't thought to lock the entrance is beyond him. 

Passing through the sliding dramatic doors, he rounds the corner, stumbling over his limbs. He catches himself before he can fall, and a nearby watchdog yelps at the sight of him. The watchdog leaps into the air, pressing himself against the wall as a blur of obsidian and navy tears by. Chest heaving, he shakily hauls his limbs from the wall that were plastered there by his sweat. 

Damp consternation kicked Tim in the face while he dashed past the watchdog, the scent beckoning him and causing agitation to coil around his veins. The scalding fury tightens, making his claws snap out. His mind screams at him to go back and rip the watchdog to shreds. 

Growling, he pushes his limbs to keep running. His shoulder blades tighten along with his legs, blood wrestling with his brain to turn around. Body throbbing with bitter uncomfortableness, his brain is flooded with relief when he sees the tall soot and crimson fabric treading the floor ahead. 

Gliding down the hall smoothly, he stops right behind Hater’s coat. The nasally airwaves plummet through his ears at a steady tempo, and above Lord Hater is staring ahead in a daze.  
Last night Tim stormed up this idea, and he is agitated at himself for not thinking of it before. There’s no way this will fail; they can’t miss his message now. Only a complete idiot would. 

Steadying himself, he starts by walking in between their legs. He creeps lightly on the edges of his feet, not wanting to draw attention to himself. Eyes glued to both of their faces, he begins to weave a web. Commencing at the bottom of Hater’s cape, he skips along with them and ropes a web between their feet. With each journey the web gets thicker and thicker, and more impossible to not notice. 

Tim hops out of the way, just in time to miss being caught in the web that now has both of their bodies strapped together. 

Commander Peepers trips over the web, and would’ve fallen flat on his eye if it were not for Hater’s fast reflexes. Gripping his arm, Hater steadies him. The Commander’s blood is scorching, whistling and highly churning in his ears. “Tim!” He screeches, his eye snapping down to Captain Tim. His heart is thrashing in his chest, twisting all his senses on high alert and tainting the air with fear. 

Meanwhile obsidian has consumed Hater’s irises, and his jaw gapes slightly as he glances down at his pet. 

“Tim Tim.” Perplexity stomps his tone flat. Blinking his confusion at bay, he simply lifts the bottom of his coat up. He yanks the web from his coat and the pearl threads slump to the floor, akin to Tim’s spine at the realization of his fatal mistake. He should’ve entangled Hater’s actual legs into the web, not just his coat. 

Commander Peepers bends, tearing the sticky web from his boots. He steps out from the demolished web, kicking it behind him. Rigid awkwardness besmirches the environment, shoving the two further apart. 

Captain Tim bites back the urge to howl, instead allowing an obtuse grunt to break out of his throat as he stomps away. His limbs pound into the ground, each slam dispatching a pleasant bleak pressure that aids in extinguishing his blazing frustration. 

A watchdog nearby also assists nicely in quenching his indignation. 

———————

Another night is spent with Tim being clutched and drowned in salty bitterness that floods his senses with more irksomeness now than concern. 

Lord Hater has finally settled after an impossibly long time of wailing, but still clenches Captain Tim in a crushing embrace. Long ago Tim gave up on fighting it. Especially after going through these motions every night, he knows there is no escape. 

Hater has never been trapped in sorrow for this long. Tim desperately misses the days when raking his nails down Hater’s face was enough to mend Hater’s wounds. 

Fishing blindly for the remote, Hater starts to idly flip through the channels. The dancing colors stab Tim’s eyes, and from the aching glare he turns his face into Lord Hater’s neck. His fur tickles Hater’s neck, drawing a loose smile onto his lips. Exhaling a soft laugh, he plops Tim onto the mattress in front of him. 

He sucks in the crisp air, relief basking in his lightening chest of finally having space. Glancing behind him, he catches sight of Hater right before he slips out the back door. 

Turning back to the screen, the figures on the screen blur before morphing into focus. The black and white hues of the old movie sooth his eyes, so he shifts closer to the screen. Perching, he watches the man and the woman who are passing through a maze. 

A wolf howls in the distance, and a full moon looms over the couple. It casts silver shadows over them, illuminating the woman’s pale wrist that grips onto her spouses arm. Her beady eyes have shrunk, and her voice wavers. Tim can’t comprehend words, but he can practically smell the dense anxiety radiating off her trembling form. The man brings her under his arm, smirking down at her. They hold eye contact, and the woman slowly goes lax. A soft smile sketches across her lips, and her flattened antennae’s spring up once more. 

Something crunches up ahead in the maze, and Tim leans closer to the screen. The woman jolts, and the man holds her closer. But even his eyes have widened now, and panic sprints around his lilac irises. The-

“Augh gross!” White piercing light slams into Tim’s pupils, and he screeches as he scrambles backwards. 

Lord Hater flips the channels once more, loudly complaining, “Who would even watch that? There’s no colors! And that couple is stupid! I mean, who goes to a maze at night without a flashlight?” Sorrow laps at the inside of Hater’s eyes, but he harshly blinks it back. He refuses to be jealous of some old couple that was stupid enough to go to an abandoned corn maze in the pitch dark. 

Tim too is rapidly blinking, desperately scrapping the edges of his vision for sight of Hater’s room again. All he can see is burning chiffon, and he hates this feeling of helplessness. 

His vision clears, along with his tangled thoughts. The memory of the movie comes jogging back, and Tim thinks back to everything he’s observed on this ship. How much Hater loves to be perceived as manly; his work out videos, all the flexing, and how he stands taller and puffs his chest out sometimes. 

Then there’s the watchdogs. So easily scared and clumsy. 

Commander Peepers isn’t all that, but he has definitely been scared before.   Of course, Hater has too. A lot. 

Tim burrows into his head, pulling out strings of something the commander is afraid of that Hater isn’t. 

When has he tasted the tangy apprehension that floods out of Peepers stark tears? 

Captain Tim tugs at the crevices of his brain. After several minutes he feels so stupid for not knowing the answer before. 

It’s literally right under his nose. 

Himself. 

——————

It’s such a simple plan that any watchdog could follow it. Just growl and chase the commander, and he’ll go jumping into Hater’s arms.

Tim easily shakes Hater’s heavy tears from his fur, both literally and metaphorically. His slumber is peaceful for the first time in a week, and animated images paint across his dreams of Hater finally being happy with his small commander smiling in tow. 

In the morning the air is so much brisker, skating through Tim’s lungs and gliding off his tongue. Relief makes his steps lighter; he’s elated to not have to play nice anymore. 

Captain Tim can finally go back to bed when Hater drags his feet out of his bedroom stomping behind a peppy Peepers. 

They’re both shocked when they make it to Hater’s dining hall with no Captain Tim interruptions. Wordlessly, they carry on through the motions. 

Although they won’t admit it, they both kind of missed it. Them both plotting ways to get Tim to not follow them, and even just the amphibian himself. There’s an ache somewhere that won’t go away; regardless, they each try their best to ignore it. 

——————

Later in the day when Tim brings forth the effort to stand, he waltzes down the hall. Sniffing, he focuses his senses on tracking the smell of bitter coffee and bleak stress with a hint of sugary nerves. 

The smell lingers more harsher on his left, so he rounds the left corner rapidly. At the end of the hall Peepers is just entering one of the smaller meeting rooms, a wad of folded blueprints clutched in one hand and a clipboard in the other. 

Tim scurries after him, slowing to a trot once he nears the room. He peeks his head inside, and the commander is the only one in the room. Peepers is scrawling stuff on the board; harsh chalk now mingling into his scent, and dusting along the crevices of the palm of his gloves. Thick alabaster clouds explode into the air around him, sluggishly evading into the atmosphere. Occasionally he blinks the dust out of his eye, but continues to write with just as much fervor. 

Sinking low on his limbs, Tim creeps in. Luckily for him he stayed near the back wall, nearly missing Hater’s feet as he barges in. 

He slumps into his large chair at the end of the oval marble table, chair spinning from the force of it. Stopping it from swerving into a full circle with the tip of his sneaker, he straightens the chair out and stares at his commander’s back. 

Captain Tim stares at Hater, jaw twisting upwards. Just in time.

Tim leaps, soaring onto the table. Peepers shrunken pupil that’s been injected by abash shifts from Hater, who actually showed up early to a meeting, to Captain Tim, who rarely comes into meeting rooms. Lord Hater too is startled, but his jaw widening into a grin makes a twinkle appear in his eyes that dispatches the former inquires that were running around his irises. “Tim Tim!” His name escapes out in a tumbling laugh, but his joy is slashed away by Tim’s next movements. 

Captain Tim snatches the chalk board eraser with his fangs, growling erupting up his esophagus as he hastily thrashes his head from side to side. Saliva splatters down, disintegrating Peepers blueprints and sizzling on top of the table. Luckily it’s a marble one, or else there would be a gaping hole on the surface that would’ve bled through to the floor. 

The commander yelps, scooping up the remains of his plans. But it’s unusable, especially since there’s now literal holes in it. 

Spitting out the remains of the eraser, he yanks the blueprints out of Peepers hands with his glistening teeth. Purposefully he scrapes his fangs lightly against his gloves, and the results are just what he wanted. Apprehension sprints into the air around him, and Peepers jolts as he shoots backwards. Back slamming into the bottom of the board, he hisses out in pain and takes a small bouncing step forwards. 

Captain Tim tears the plans apart while making as much noise as possible, watching the soggy beryl coated shreds rain onto the floor. Once there’s no papers left he nears Peepers, who is pressed back against the wall. 

Suddenly remembering his blaster, he yanks it out of his back pocket. A tight laugh crackles out of his diaphragm as the blaster whirrs and lights up on the tip. The austere fear fades slightly in the atmosphere, and Peepers glowers at Tim. “Don’t come any closer.” He points the blaster confidently with a steady arm, but the beginning of the consonants waver and constrict around his light lungs. 

“PEEPERS!” 

Perfect. Captain Tim kneels a tad, displaying the taunt ebony fur on his back as he deepens his growl. 

The world around him lashes at his eyes with winds of porcelain and ebony. Hater hugs Tim into his chest, glowering at Peepers.  
 The commander lowers his blaster, but the glare intensifies and makes Tim more on edge than when he was faced with the weapon. 

Peepers roughly exhales, his scorching breath licking his lower lid. Fury ignites his lungs, causing them to burn as he attempts to calm himself. “Sir,” The commander straightens his spine, drawing his height up as far as he can. “Captain Tim ruined my plans! He ruined all of them, and I don’t have any of them backed up! Which means now we’re going to fall even further down the leader board! I’ve been working for weeks on these plans! Now we’re going to have to have another stupid brainstorming session that just eats up even more of our time, and leaves us back to where we are now, with no plans!” 

Speaking this aloud he can’t control himself anymore, lividness consuming his frustration. His anger wraps its fat hand around his throat, choking him to the point it threatens his eye to release sweltering tears. As his mind comprehends that all his plans he’s worked days on are gone, the fight to not cry grows weaker and weaker. His stubbornness is kneeling over in his stomach that is on fire, and his lungs are crippling. Every breath leaves a coat of ash in his lids. He feels sick. 

Hater leans back in his chair, oblivious to all of his commanders emotions. All he can read is his stiff posture, and the glint in his eye that was radiating fury. Running his fingers through the thick soft fur beneath Tim’s collar, Hater calmly states, “Yeah well all you’re plans would’ve sucked anyways.” 

Peepers blinks. Then blinks again. His veins have froze, and ice crawls up his body and melts his boiling blood. He gapes, lower lid drooping. “What?” The question seeps out with no emotion. The tone is so flat Tim has a bit of trouble gauging how the commander is feeling now. 

Lord Hater shrugs, “All you’re plans always fail, so it’s no big deal you can just make more like you always do.” He waves his hand dismissively. But to Peepers each wave and vowel feels like small darts aiming for his heart, and none of them are missing their target. “What is an actual problem is that YOU ALMOST SHOT CAPTAIN TIM!” Tim vision whitens at the edges from Hater clutching him so tightly, but even he can’t miss the coat of salty bitter tears that stick to the commanders entire eye.

Peepers clenches his fists, bristle and jagged words tearing and cutting up his system. As they rise they slice his organs and heart, spreading blistering blood back in his veins. 

But then, he unclenches fists, arms drooping to his side as his whole entire body wilts. 

What’s the point? All his plans are gone, and fighting with Hater is like trying to take on a hurricane.

Mutely he walks out of the room, eye stoic. 

“Commander Peepers! Get back in here I’m not done talking to you!” Hater plops Tim into his chair, stomping down the hall after him. 

Captain Tim stares down at the leather seat, the scents of the room and the tones of their voices weighing down on his small pulsating heart. 

Hater saved the wrong person. 

——————

A week later Hater and Peepers are back on good terms, yet Tim is weary of trying the fear tactic again. 

For future plans he knows not to destroy any papers since it made the commander stench of sorrow and his shoulders permanently sag for five days straight. Hater cries of not having a girlfriend shifted to frustrated wailing of not understanding why Peepers was so upset at him.

That was so much worse than his pitiful sobbing. 

Lord Hater wouldn't shut up, stubbornness of lying to himself about how much he didn't care gave Tim a headache.  
Throughout the week, Captain Tim thought back to the incident a lot. It even haunted him in his dreams, vividly staining on the inside of his eye lids. But every time the scene replayed, the motion of Peepers cowering into the corner yowls in Tim’s mind. The commander didn't inch towards Hater at all when he was afraid. 

Maybe without his blaster he would have. 

But when Tim was faced in the line of danger, Hater saved and coddled him. With being out of the way this time, and by putting Peepers in a line of danger… Hater could save and coddle him. But with him in the mix, that wasn’t working. Maybe he needs to put Hater in the line of danger. 

But how? 

Peepers always rushes to Hater’s aid. Whether it be actual danger, or something dumb such as Hater not being able to beat a level of a video game. Tim recalls nights of an exhausted Peepers tumbling into the room after an irritated Hater whose screaming and waving his remote at the television. Peepers always deadpans, but Tim only detects a whisper of irksomeness as Peepers helps him beat the level. And he always stays after he’s helped him… 

Bingo.

Clearly Hater doesn't have to be put in any actual danger. 

Tim’s been using fear wrong, he needs to manipulate the commanders fear. 

No matter what, Peepers will always run to Hater.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe it has been more than a month since I have updated. I am sorry, but my AP class has been absolute hell. The teacher has given my class so much work, and gives us even more because she hates my class so much... because we are all quiet. Anyways, I am so glad to have had the time tonight to add this. I plan on working on and posting another chapter tomorrow, so hopefully my teacher will not assign too much so I can do so. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the lovely feedback and patience!

Tim surges down the hall, limbs scrambling against the slippery marble floor. Heavy perseverance struggles to squeeze between his huddled shoulders.

He only has minimal time to do this. 

Hater doesn’t take long to gather his nightly snacks. 

There’s a risk in this, he knows. A risk that Peepers will be able to clear his way out of his murky consternation before Hater returns, by quickly realizing there is a backdoor that will be unlocked. 

Tim can only run so fast; there is no way he could reach the backdoor in time if Peepers broke through his panic too suddenly. 

Hopefully luck will be on his side this time. 

He almost misses the commander’s door, skidding to a stop just as he begins to pass it. Just like he suspected, it’s shut. It’s no surprise to him that Peepers just went to bed since the commander follows such a steady prestigious schedule. The timely list is the last sheet on his clipboard, squished underneath a thick stack of color-coded crowded brainstormings, rustic plans, and faded documents. The words of his time schedule are old and frail; the sheet is practically etched into the fading wood, akin to how built-in the schedule is in Peepers system. He follows the schedule without thought, simply going through the calming motions of the days that are basic and consistent. 

The action of Tim raking his nails down the ebony door pinches his veins. Wood screeching against nails curls and kicks against Tim’s eardrums. 

He loves the feeling and sounds so much.

Whining, his pitch wavers as he heightens his cry as high as he can. Lungs heaving, he ignores the burning sensation as he continues to watch bright chiffon lines strike down the door.

Captain Tim’s ears quiver now for an entirely different reason, and his legs throb from the commander’s stomping on the other side of the door. He yanks the door open, Tim luckily backing away before Peepers did so. If he hasn’t, he would have fallen forwards into Peepers socks. 

They’re way too long, the pearl fabric draping and heaving onto the floor. 

His pupil is waxy, and he narrows his crusty lids down at Tim. Irksomeness sparks behind his iris, looming a soot shadow over his pupil and lower lid. The sleep falls out of the corners of his eye as he adjusts to the rose and violet emergency lights that illuminate the long hallway. 

“What?!” Charcoal scrapes off the insides of his lids, bleeding into the shadow that kneels in front of the commander. The ashy remains of his tone stains Tim’s tongue. 

Captain Tim’s voice quivers once more, brisk feigned anguish coating his scorching vocal cords. It sounds so real it freezes Peepers agitation from being awaken, cracking it and leaving jagged anxiety crumbling in its place. Spine snapping up, his crimson iris is devoured by his jet pupil. 

Just the reaction he wanted.

Tim hops his weight from limb to limb, conveying his fake unease as he begins to race in the direction of Hater’s room. He turns his head back, staring directly into Peepers eye as he wails again. Running to the commander, he shifts immediately back into the direction of Hater’s room. Head directed at Peepers again, the commander jumps into action. Bolting past Tim, they both start dashing towards Hater’s room. An impenetrable quavering ink peels off the commander, chocking up the environment around them with shards of the rough dried ink. It’s so strong that breathing it in makes Tim’s heart quiver, and pumps solid fear in his bloodstream. He shakes his head, sucking in a deep inhale. Immediately he regrets it when the stinging pigment tackles his tastebuds again. 

Peepers barges into Haters bedroom, eye whipping around as his bleary pupil struggles for several seconds to focus in one spot. All he can comprehend are messy sheets, a flashing television, and tossed aside untied sneakers. Chest heaving his legs are rotating before he can fully process their actions, causing the walls to collapse around him. Blinking, the walls leap back into place. 

He turns just in time to see the door slam shut, and as the scream of the action echoes through the room it snaps him back into reality. Lord Hater isn’t in the bedroom. 

Oh grop no. 

Veins fluttering, the three steps to the door feel like he’s trudging through quick sand. He twists the knob, but the door won't open. 

No, no, no, grop no! 

Leaning all his weight into the door, his side digs into it as his wrist cramps. The fight between him and the doorknob is tragic, similar to the watchdogs so called battles with the zbornak.   Reflecting back on this event, he suspected this. Captain Tim shutting him into Lord Hater’s bedroom made perfect sense. What he didn’t expect, however, is that it would be locked. Jammed by furniture is more what he would assume. It is far more plausible than the amphibian being able to reach and twist the lock of the door knob! 

Panting against the wood, his alarmed humid breath bounces back onto his bottom lid. Throwing back his eye his crackling growl morphs into a cry as he kicks the door, but it serves to do nothing but cause him more pain. His toes rattle, and the blood rushes out of them. The remaining cells eat at the bones of his toes, and tap-dance along the pink skin of his toes. He pays no mind to the numb feeling, his churning thoughts distracting him. Resting his palms against the door, he shoves himself off it, glowering at the amphibian he knows is behind it. 

Just what is his flarping problem? 

A watchdog had to have helped him. There’s no way Tim could reach the lock. 

Wait the back door! 

A nasally cackle floods out of his exhale, falling into the nape of his neck to rest in his collarbones. 

Oh he’s so going to get it. 

Before Peepers can start heading towards the back door, Hater breaks in, back turned. Bringing his knee up to adjust the arm full of snacks he has, he hums his theme song to himself as he steadies all his food in the elbow of his right arm. With his other hand he grips the door. In that moment, across the hall, the commander catches a blur of neon cobalt and onyx. 

“Wait no sir don’t-“ Hater’s back ricochets, eluding bewilderment from hearing his commander’s voice out of thin air. 

But by then, it’s too late. 

His fingers push off the wooden frame, and slamming echoes throughout the vast bedroom. The walls tremble, and Peepers extended arm drops along with his eye. “-let the door shut.” He lamely finishes. His words are heavy, weighing down the inside of his eye and casting deep wrinkles below his lid. His voice sinks, but vanishes before it can crumble to the floor, muttering into the thickening air between the two. 

Lord Hater glances around the room with perplexity sitting above his eyes, the pressure of it causing them to narrow. “Uh, what’s going on?” Coal absorbs his chartreuse irises. “Wait why are you in my room?!” His tone builds, intensifying in defense. 

Peepers jolts, shoulders leaping as he rushes past Hater to the door behind him. The commander curses himself for waiting so long to reach the door. The moment he twists the doorknob, from the tightness of it, he knows it’s locked. Regardless, his hand won’t stop twisting it. The obnoxious clicking of the lock mocks him, chuckling at his feeble attempts. All Peepers can see in his mind is Tim smirking from behind the door. 

Whirring around, Peepers shoves the palm of his hand onto the door. The wooden frame quakes, and sharp pain shoots up his wrist. His anger devours the agitated hiss that was bubbling up in his esophagus, burping out a growl that eludes only a hint of his fury. He glowers at Hater. “Stupid Captain Tim is what’s going on!” 

Hater gasps, glaring at Peepers, “Don’t call him stupid!”    
The commander drags air in, forcing his scrambling torrid thoughts to collect themselves in an orderly process once more. The watchdogs will find them… eventually. Wait no, he has his phone he can call them! Thank the galaxy for that, that’ll make things go by A LOT faster. 

“Wait, I didn't lock the door.” 

Hater’s confusion yanks on Peepers calm thoughts, forcing him back into the present. “Yes sir I know that. Captain Tim locked us in here.” 

Hater blinks, processing what was just said. He barks, jaw snapping upwards into a smirk. “Psh yeah right,” His sentence fades off into chortling, and he takes several seconds to find his words again. Peepers unamused expression guides Hater back on track quickly. He glances off to the side, lips rolling again, “psh like Tim could even reach the door knob.” 

The commander crosses his arms, his thoughts following his actions, “Well he found some way to sir, because I sure didn’t.” Salt seeps into his tone, and his eye narrows once more at Hater. 

Frowning, Lord Hater mules over everything that was said. 

Exhaling roughly, Peepers plops down on the edge of Hater’s bed. Once realizing he’s sitting on Lord Hater’s bed, though, his spine shoots up. How uncomfortable and strange this situation is starts to punch his thoughts, interrupting his strategic thought process by shoving complex emotions into his brain. They wrestle with his reasoning, winning by a long shot. Exhaling, he attempts to categorize his emotions with his pondering. 

He’s noticed the amphibian’s strange behavior, of course. It is impossible to not notice. But locking Hater and him in Hater’s bedroom… two of the strongest people on the ship… Is he plotting to take over the ship? 

Peepers laughs in his head, booting the insane theory out of his mind. No way, Captain Tim becoming a villain and taking the watchdogs as his own army is just plain crazy. 

Well, he had the scaring others part down magnificently. But no, he would have to talk to be able to take planets over. And… 

Why is he even considering this?! 

Shaking his eye Peepers grabs his phone out, only, when he starts scrolling for his contacts they aren’t showing. The device isn't even lighting up. Gaping, he turns it, and his pupil rakes over the huge hole in the back of his phone where the batteries usually are. 

He can’t believe this. Where the batteries once were lie the whispers of a web cutting through a thin layer of dust.

Oh my grop.

That little flarping… 

Peepers snaps his phone back around to the front, catching the glimpse of his pupil that is starting to shrink from the screen. 

There’s no way out of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a cute idea for the next chapter and am so excited to write it. 
> 
> Hint: Lock-in. All night.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: Hatesgreat-bestvillian


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